


One Spark

by PrincessAmericaChavez



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Force-Sensitive Poe Dameron, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13027731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessAmericaChavez/pseuds/PrincessAmericaChavez
Summary: Post The Last Jedi. SPOILERS AHEAD THREAD CAREFULLY.Broken, battered and exhausted, two souls collide for the first time. There's something there, a connection quiet and powerful, much like the Force. There's also fear, and loneliness, and the First Order on their toes.





	One Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe sighs heavily, standing back up. He finds himself an island in a sea of people. No, islands are steady ground, what he feels right now is adrift and alone. What is he doing here? What good is he right now to them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS AHEAD LAST WARNING

It's smaller than he imagined it, but then again most things are. Ever since he was a child Poe had dreamed of the Millennium Falcon, he'd grown up hearing stories about it, about Han Solo and Luke Skywalker and Leia Oragana. Mostly about Leia. Part of him feels very young again, in awe to be in the legendary ship right now, with all the story it carries and the victories it holds to its name, but that part is quiet in a deep corner of his soul, silenced by every other inch of him that feels much older than he technically is. The past hours have left a bitter taste lingering in his mouth, lost names ringing in his ears, the heat from battle barely beginning to fade from his twitching fingers. While in danger, he never shakes, he's steady and cold, it's only in the moments after, when adrenaline dies down and reality kicks in, that his body remembers its own mortality and trembles before it. 

The Resistance is much smaller than he dreamed, too. It used to feel so big, so powerful, and now there's just a handful of them, crammed inside an old ship, old memories of the Rebellion that they couldn't live up to. 

Poe paces around the ship. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He's a fighter, a pilot, ~~a leader~~ , a spy. None of those are things he can do right now, they are useless in their current predicament, he feels like a sitting duck, like a caged animal licking his wounds. 

He finds Leia sitting at an old round table, in one of the few rooms that've been left empty in the ship. He heavily suspects her presence  _is_ the reason the room is empty. She's mourning. Her husband, her son, her brother, every loss seems to weigh her down, make her stand a couple inches smaller. Right now, with her back arched, her eyes lost somewhere far, somewhere he can't reach, she sits in a silence deep like an ocean.

His chest feels suddenly heavier than before, as the reality of what just happened begins to burn him from the inside. All the lives lost, all the pain, all the anger and loss he's caused with his negligence. He thought he was so strong and smart and daring, and in the end he was wrong time and time again. Not that he's ever cared about 'Going out in a blaze of glory', it seems like a perfect death to him, but it's different when others do it under your orders. He should have known. He hurts with all the words he wants to say to her, to apologize, to beg forgiveness, or maybe punishment, whatever she sees fit. Fix me. Hate me. Make me pay for my sins. Look at me. I'm so sorry, he wants to say, but the words seem flat and useless right now. What could those sad little words do, compared to everything they just lost? It doesn't matter, though, because the words don't come, they are stuck inside him like water in a dam and he knows he wouldn't be able to say them out loud even if he had the courage to try. Nothing comes out. Not even tears. When was the last time he cried?

There's an old blanket folded on one of the chairs. He grabs it and approaches Leia slowly from behind. His boots squeak on the floor, he lets them, he doesn't want to startle her, he wants to give her a chance to walk away if she doesn't want to talk to him. She doesn't move, doesn't acknowledge his presence. That might be worse. Wordlessly, he puts the blanket around her shoulders, resting his hands on them gently, a lame attempt at comfort that he almost immediately regrets. Who is he to comfort her? What is he to her? Nothing, no one, just a soldier. Holdo said so herself.

Just as he is retreating, one of her hands comes up to hold his own, her fingers intertwining with his. She's ice cold, just as she was when she reentered their ship. The memory of her half-frozen to death crawls back on him and it terrifies him. He holds on a little tighter. The words inside him burn again, turn into a scream that he swallows back down because he can't do this to her, not now. She let's go, doesn't look at him as she stands up and walks to the cockpit. She's met by Chewbacca's loud groans and a half hug as she sits besides him. Poe doesn't follow. He can't.

So he goes back to pacing, but there's still not much he can do. He walks to the main cargo area, where most of their remaining crew —the few that are left of the Resistance— has gathered. The only one that seems to notice his arrival is BB-8, the droid gently taps against his leg, beeping softly. Poe almost believes that his little friend is able to read his mood better than any human. 

"Hey, buddy," he whispers, kneeling down to rub a hand over his head, as he would with a pet. The droid chirps happily. His droid is able to feel happiness, he knows this. It technically shouldn't be able to  _feel_ anything, he knows that too. 

Still kneeling down, he glances up at the room. His eyes trail over those who are left, a few pilots —many of his crew, though they took quite a few loses too and he doesn't have the heart to even think about it right now, the chances of breaking down are too high—, several technicians that lean over old screens trying to figure out their next move, a few commanders and captains. That's all there's left. His eyes finally land on Finn. Poe smiles a little to himself, relieved that his friend is still here. He's lost so much already, but losing him would be one blow too many. He came too close to losing him several times in the past hours, but he's here. Poe thinks he must have done  _something_ right if Finn is still here. 

The man is sleeping on a chair, head twisted in an uncomfortable position, arms crossed, body half slumped against a wall. He hasn't left Tico's side, and Poe can't blame him. He stayed by Finn's side for as long as he could, too. Tico saved him, just like Finn saved Poe, and just like him she paid a high price for her courage. Poe knows what it's like to almost lose someone who in so little time became so important to you. He wouldn't be able to put into words the way Finn marked him, but he knows that kind of bonds are rock-solid and lifelong. Her mother used to tell him that no friendships were as strong as the ones you forged in the battlefield, when you put your life in someone else's hands and trusted them with every inch of your soul, when you were willing to give everything for the other person to live. That same bond makes him want to go over to Finn right now, sit by his side, talk, hug, laugh and pretend they are just two guys who don't have the weight of the universe on their shoulders. He doesn't. The best he can do right now is let him rest, which he doubts he'd done at all since he woke up from his comma. 

Poe sighs heavily, standing back up. He finds himself an island in a sea of people. No, islands are steady ground, what he feels right now is adrift and alone. What is he doing here? What good is he right now to them?

His eyes catch on the other lonely figure in the room. Rey. The first thing that strikes him is that she sits like a child, knees tugged against her chin, perched on top of a few metal boxes, watching everything around her with curious hungry eyes. His instincts tell him that considering her a child would be a mistake, though. It's not only that he saw her lift an unbelievable amount of boulders with only her mind, it's something  _else_ about her. Something he can't name. 

"Hey," he says softly, sitting next to her. 

She jumps, startled. Maybe she was deeper in thought that he considered. She looks at him with those wide eyes, full of surprise.

"Hi," she finally replies, and there's a question in her voice, like she doesn't understand why he'd be talking to her. It catches him off balance, he suddenly realizes he has no idea of where he was planning to take this conversation.

"Are you okay?" Is the best thing he has to offer, even if he barely knows her, even if she has no reason to open up to him. Perhaps it's just a selfish question, the kind he wishes someone would ask him right now. 

"I'm alright," Rey replies, voice flat, resigned. It manages to sound like a negative, though it might be the sadness in her eyes. She looks like someone who just lost something precious to them, family maybe, or hope. He's seen that look across their ranks too many times. 

She looks away and it occurs to Poe that maybe she wants him to leave, maybe she appreciates her solitude. He follows the direction of her eyes, though, and it leads him back to Finn, who is now snoring softly. From this angle, he can see his hand holding Rose's.  _Oh._

"He asked about you," he says, and it manages to draw her attention back. "As soon as he woke up, you're the first thing he asked about."

He can see Rey's expression soften a little, her shoulders drop. 

"He was very worried, especially after we left D'Qar. He wasn't sure you'd be able to find your way back," he goes on, because at least this seems like something he can help with. "He really cares a lot about you."

"And I care about him too," she says, glancing back at the sleeping man. Her expression melts with fondness. "He is my best friend in the world. He is... my only friend."

Something about those words feels like a confession, so strong and real that to Poe —used to moving in a world of shadows and lies— it feels like a punch to the gut. He is winded by the clarity in her voice, the love in it, the pain behind it. The loneliness, mostly. He knows the loneliness. 

"Well," he says, "you have another friend now. If- If that's okay with you, I mean-"

It takes a moment of confusion, where he wonders if she understood he meant himself, where he's sure he's crossed a line he shouldn't, where he wants to punch himself in the mouth. And then, it happens: her face lights up with a smile. Up until now, he didn't think it possible for someone's face to literally brighten up, and yet there it is. It's the same smile she had when they met, mere hours ago, open and warm, almost electric. 

"I would like that," she says, nodding. 

Smiling back feels easy, almost too easy compared to the heaviness sitting inside him. He knows how to play-pretend smile, how to charming smile, how to do it in the face of danger: this is not that. This is the kind of smile that only a few know, the one he fiercely wards against strangers. By all accounts, this girl is a stranger to him, and yet the word  _friend_ fits her so much more. She feels familiar. 

"I- I have to tell you, what you did back there? It was incredible. You saved us all, the Resistance wouldn't be here without you."

 _Unlike me,_ he adds deep down,  _you saved so many while I endangered them, led them to their deaths._

Before she can reply —not that he expects her to, not that she  _has_ to— a third person sits next to them.

"We are running on fumes," Kaydel Connix tells him in a hushed tone. There's a graveness to her voice that clashes with her youthful face and her tight blonde hair buns. She shouldn't be telling him this, she has no reason to, but she's his friend, his ally, who was willing to risk her own life to help with their crazy and disastrous plan. Having her in his corner, even after all his mistakes, is infinitely reassuring. "If we don't find a place to stop and refuel soon, we'll be in serious trouble."

"It's not just the fuel," Poe frowns, "we might have dealt a heavy blow on the First Order today, but they'll surely be close behind. They've tracked us through light-speed before."

"We need a place to lay low," she nods, "gather our forces and try to contact our allies again."

Poe glowers at this. Their 'allies' didn't even bother responding to their calls for aid earlier, their bases and fleets are gone, whatever fighters that might be scattered across the galaxy will not have a place to go to, no way to know if they are alive. He feels despair clawing at him like a furious beast, threatening to make him shatter. Connix's eyes are still set on him, faith unwavering. He tries to gather himself together and, as he does, he thinks of his parents and their stories about the Rebellion, about how close they were to lose it all, about how one jedi had returned hope to them and how they'd finally arisen from the ashes after destroying the-

"I know where we can go," he jumps to his feet. 

Connix follows. Surprisingly, so does Rey. He walks briskly towards the holoprojector and scans their sector. They might just be close enough.

"I have a plan," he says, jaw set and fists clenched. He closes his eyes for a second and prays to the Force that this time he's right, that this time he doesn't get them all killed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character: interact 0.3 seconds  
> me: let's write 3k words about their possible developement
> 
> I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT THIS BARE WITH ME


End file.
